


A Way to Defy the Laws of Gravity

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Bondage, Crossover, Episode: Heart, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Fix-It, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:05:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're playing by her rules, on her time. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Way to Defy the Laws of Gravity

"You're not trying to get away, are you?" She turns and smiles, knots her hair up in a way that should be physically impossible. Jess used to do that, too. Clearly women have determined a way to defy the laws of gravity, and they are not sharing it with men.

"Do I like look I even could get away, baby?" Sam asks. His hands are tied—comfortably but securely—to the headboard, and he's strong, but not strong enough to bend century-old hand-wrought iron.

"No," Madison says. "But I know you'll still try."

He already did. He could probably get the knots undone if he really wanted to, but it would take some effort—he and Dean have taught her well—and that's not really the point right now anyway.

She unbuttons her shirt leisurely, like she's doing nothing but getting ready for bed by herself, in her old apartment, in her old life, like Sam's not tied naked to the bed, like he's not harder than he's ever been in his life. She puts the garment on a hanger, settles it neatly in the closet—she hates wrinkles in her clothes—and then slides her jeans off, folds them over the back of the chair. Underneath, she's wearing her usual matching bra and panties: Where Jessica considered herself fortunate to have clean underwear on a daily basis, Madison believes that these things must match as precisely as her clothing. Today's are a dark red, lacy; Sam appreciates them, but he'd appreciate them even more if they were lying somewhere in the room and he had an unobstructed view of her breasts—small but perfect—and the cleft between her thighs. God, he wants to lick her there, but they're playing by her rules tonight, on her time, and if she wants that, she'll let him know.

She's on the Wolfsbane, and it'll kick in starting tomorrow night, which means that he'll sleep with a large, affectionate, sentient, and somewhat smelly wolf for three nights running. She'll be herself, but in a different, limited form, and he wants his fill before that.

"You planning on coming over here anytime soon?"

"So impatient," she chides. She reaches behind herself, unhooks the bra, drapes it over the jeans, and stretches. He admires the clean line of her back, the warm olive of her skin.

She walks over to the bed and lies down next to him, runs her hand down his body. "I'm here," she says.


End file.
